


The Next Day

by cowboyguy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Sam Winchester's Hell Trials, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboyguy/pseuds/cowboyguy
Summary: "This second trial hit you a lot harder than the first one. I don't know whether it was just more intense or what.""Felt the same. Till the next day."





	The Next Day

“It’s done,” Sam gasped breathlessly, kneeling on the ground amidst pine needles and dead leaves. “It’s done.” He clutched the paper with the trials incantation tightly in a hand that, moments ago, had been glowing from the inside.

Dean could feel his brother shaking under the firm hand he had on Sam’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

Still catching his breath, Sam nodded, then pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. “I’m good.”

Dean wasn’t convinced. Sam’s shoulders were still heaving with every breath, just like during his childhood asthma attacks, when Dean had guided him through the not-so-simple process of moving air through his lungs.

This time, though, there was no safe hotel room. No medicine to make it all better. Just a four hour hike through the woods back to the Impala.

“Come on,” he said, keeping an arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulders and letting Sam set the pace through the moonlit forest.

* * *

Dean drove as far as he could, waiting until he was nearly falling asleep at the wheel, to get off the highway and find a motel. They had a long way to go to get back to Kansas, and Dean wanted to get Sam back to the safety and comfort of the bunker as soon as possible.

In the passenger seat, Sam was already fast asleep, having conked out almost as soon as Dean had started driving. Fighting through Purgatory to get to Hell and back wasn’t exactly a stroll through the park, and Dean knew these trials were taking a toll on his little brother.

He almost hated to wake him, but any motel bed was better than waking up with a sore neck and your face glued to the car window.

Dean opened the passenger door and shook Sam’s shoulder gently, watching as his brother woke up with a jolt. Sam stretched and winced, blinking up at Dean through sleepy eyes.

“Come on, kiddo,” Dean said. “I can’t carry you into the room like I could when you were four.” He looked to the right, towards the waiting motel room, and Sam followed his gaze, staring at the closed door for a moment before climbing stiffly out of the car and stumbling after his brother towards a bed and another few solid hours of rest.

* * *

In the darkness of the motel room, Dean lay awake in his bed, listening to the soft sounds of Sam tossing and turning in the bed next to him, the raspy catch of his breath on each inhale.

Every so often, a round of painful-sounding coughs would rip through Sam, startling him awake momentarily before he collapsed back onto the bed and into unconsciousness while Dean looked on, helpless and silent.

* * *

After two days of driving, they were finally cruising up the gravel driveway towards the entrance of the bunker. Dean had never been so happy to see the place.

“Home sweet home,” he said, turning to his brother in the passenger seat.

Sam still looked tired, his skin pale except for the dark circles under his eyes. He was huddled into his jacket like he was cold, despite the warm spring sunlight that had been beaming through the windshield all morning.

“Yeah,” he murmured, then coughed roughly into a closed fist, turning away from Dean like he was trying to hide it. Like it wasn’t already painfully obvious that this trial had taken a lot more out of Sam than the first one had.

“Go, get inside,” Dean insisted, practically pushing his brother out of the car. “I’ll get our stuff.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam answered, getting to his feet on legs that were unsteady after several hours in the car. “I’m gonna, uh…” He trailed off, waving a vague hand towards the fortified door and the warm safety of the bunker behind it.

“There’s clean clothes in the laundry. Go get changed and get some rest, okay?” Dean said. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Sam had already gotten a couple of days of rest and yet only seemed to be getting worse. Dean just followed after his brother, making sure the door was secure behind them, and watched as Sam headed off to his bedroom before settling down in front of his laptop to try to find a way to help his brother.

He couldn't help but feel like they were running out of time.


End file.
